


Where Are We Now?

by MoonySmith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (i really don't know how to tag this; is it angst??), Awkward meeting, Break Up, M/M, POV Greg, a bit of angst with hopeful ending, a tired and forgetful inspector, john is mentioned being not good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22157356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySmith/pseuds/MoonySmith
Summary: Sherlock has broken up with Greg and he pretty much knows the reason behind it, but he still doesn't understand why. And now Molly has asked him to keep an eye on him for a few hours making sure that he's clean and still out of drugs.Set during The Lying Detective.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 57





	Where Are We Now?

**Author's Note:**

> This is intentionally posted the day after Sherlock Holmes' birthday.
> 
> Please let me know if you see any grammar mistake!

Greg finally had a day off from that marathon session he had in the Culverton Smith case, all he had wanted was to simply go home and take his well-deserved rest, but Molly called him that morning in desperation because she urgently needed someone to watch Sherlock for a few hours. The woman had explained the situation to him as soon as Sherlock left the hospital but considering their current situation, Greg decided not to be included in the short list they had, and Molly at least had been sympathetic to his decision as she was aware of what had happened between them. That's why Greg really understood that this must be very upsetting for her and she really needed him there.

She had warned him beforehand that Sherlock slept through much of the day thanks to the different types of medication he was taking but that he was still checked once during the night for any kind of drugs, so there shouldn't be any serious problems that afternoon and he most likely wouldn't even see him during those hours, but with Sherlock being him it was never known if the drugs would arrive otherwise and that’s why he needed special surveillance.

He sat at the recently cleaned table in the kitchen of 221b, drinking a cup of coffee while trying to focus on the newspaper in front of him. He was failing incredibly because he couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock and the last time he had seen him.

After a few amazing months in one of the most important relationships Greg has ever had, even after almost years of pinning and even after all what they went through, Sherlock had broken up with him, taking him by complete surprise when how well everything seemed to be going between the two of them. Although after Mary's death, something had definitely changed in Sherlock, and Greg felt like he shouldn’t leave him alone for at any cause but he couldn't be there if he didn't let him and tried so hard to hurt him.

Greg took had taken a seat in front of Sherlock, in John's chair. He tried to talk to him about something he had seen while driving there but Lestrade knew that Sherlock wasn’t paying attention to him, his gaze fixed on something beyond the fireplace.

“You should go,” he suddenly said.

“Sorry?”

"Leave. "Sherlock didn't look up from the chimney and used a calm tone of voice. "And don't come back."

"What… what do you mean?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment before closing his eyes tightly and opening them only to look at Greg. He probably couldn't help the new sparkle in them, making Greg's chest tightened, without understanding.

“I am breaking up with you, Lestrade. I… I don’t want to continue…”

"What? Where does this come from?"

"Can't you just accept it? We're done. Leave."

"No." He tried to compose himself and took a moment before speaking again, "I'm not leaving, I… I told you I'll always be here for you even if we didn't work. F-fine, we're done but I won't leave you like this, not right now. You're not okay…"

"I don't want your help, nor your company. I'm _nicely_ asking you to leave."

"No, what the hell is going on?"

Sherlock finally seemed to regain a sense of where he was and who was there, standing up and joining in a heated discussion with Greg. Sometimes Sherlock knew very well how to hurt people even if it seemed to be unintentional, and now he had hurt Lestrade who apparently could only stand a certain level of humiliation.

And now he was back there with that bitter taste in his mouth again, the memory of not being able to believe what had suddenly happened between them in the end, what Sherlock had done to himself and that Lestrade didn’t even have the chance to stop him.

He sighed and took a long sip from his coffee until he was completely paralyzed by the sound of footsteps and movements sounds from the room next to the kitchen. The door opened in a matter of seconds and he found a freshly awakened Sherlock staring at him with his eyes wide open. Lestrade swallowed nervously but gave a gentle wave which Sherlock ignored and rushed into the bathroom. Greg closed his eyes and sighed again. It was a possibility that this would happen anyway, much as he wanted to avoid it.

He decided to stay there in the same place, he had promised Molly that he would, however uncomfortable it seemed to him, it was a promise.

He continued to drink his coffee, trying not to think too much about the sight of a sleepy Sherlock with his blushed cheeks in surprise as soon as he saw him sitting there. He didn't know if he could get used to Sherlock with that stubble, though, let alone the wounds on his face and those bloodshot eyes, that just thinking about its cause made him livid, so he just sat there, waiting for him to come out and whatever would happen. 

He poured a cup of coffee for the other one after he poured another one himself. Sherlock left the bathroom shortly afterwards to return to his room for a few moments, without looking at him on his short journey.

But Lestrade continued to read the newspaper, to which after a while he managed to pay attention to, and he didn't look up when Sherlock finally left his room, and only when he suddenly stopped in front of the table looking at the cup that was served there. Greg let him know that it was for him and Sherlock thanked him quietly, then he took it and went to sit in his chair. Such an uncomfortable situation, wasn’t it?

Sherlock was wearing a white shirt and dark trousers, but his trademark dressing gown on top of all that, although Greg tried not to notice too much so as not to draw any more attention to himself. He was surprised when he heard Sherlock let out a sigh or even a moan of satisfaction so he had to lift his head curiously. He didn't ask, nor did Sherlock let him know, but apparently the gesture was because of the coffee he had in his hands, and it made Greg remember he always loved it when he made his coffee for some strange reason.

They were silent for a few more minutes, Greg had noticed that Sherlock was checking his phone for the most part. But the truth was that Greg couldn't stand that uncomfortable silence any longer, or even not being able to talk about anything else. So he was about to open his mouth, when Sherlock did it first sharply, “You don’t have to stay.”

Lestrade looked up at him, even from the distance they were in, he could read a little bit of Sherlock in his acting and knew he was annoyed by this whole situation too.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I’m not using, I’m fine. There’s no need for you to…”

“I promised Molly I’ll stay, I’m okay with it,” he said, shrugging. “I mean if you’re also okay with it?”

Sherlock stared at him before nodding slightly.

"Then we're fine," he politely sentenced, taking one more look at him before returning to the paper that he almost finished. If he didn't find something else to occupy his mind soon, he would go into despair.

“I think Mrs Hudson has left some a piece of cake from yesterday on the fridge. You can have it.”

Lestrade looked at the fridge gratefully, some sweetness would actually make him feel a bit better, wouldn't it?

“Well, you can have it as a sorry for being stuck here with me on your day off.”

And Lestrade tilted his head to the side with that, ignoring his hasty deduction because Sherlock had used a pitiful tone of voice that had upset him.

“Don’t do that,” he said seriously, “Don’t try to victimize yourself here, because it’s not fair. And you know it.”

“I _am_ the one who’s...”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I…” He blinked at him and lowered his head in shame.

Lestrade finally got tired of it all, and slammed the newspaper down on the table, standing up and walking into the room, he stood behind John's chair.

“I know you broke up with me to go on drugs,” he told him. Sherlock glanced up and his bright eyes looked at him dubiously, “I’m not that stupid, Sherlock. But I still can’t… understand why.”

“You wouldn’t have let me…”

“I damn wouldn’t have let you! For fuck’s sake, Sherlock. You well could have just killed yourself that way!” He snapped and threw up his hands in frustration, while Sherlock still looked like a child who was being scolded for some little mischief. This wasn’t small on any level.

“I had to.”

“No, that’s just stupid.” He shook his head.

“He’s my only friend, I needed to help him.”

That made Greg raise his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side again, _his only friend_. That hurt a bit.

“He’s not the only one who cares about you, though.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, you know you’re… _were_ … more than a friend, Lestrade.”

He shook his head again.

“A friend wouldn’t have let you do that. Molly wouldn’t. _I_ wouldn’t.” Greg lowered his head and let his hands resting over the back on John's chair. “I hope one day you’ll realize that you are worth so much more than you think, Sherlock.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Sherlock replied quickly. When Greg raised his gaze he saw that he was looking at the hands on his lap now.

“You do, Sherlock.” Lestrade hated the obsession had grown on Sherlock over John Watson. He did understand that this was his first friend he had in a long time, or maybe ever - he didn’t count himself as one because Sherlock never saw him as one from the start. But something happened in Sherlock’s mind with John, and Greg understood friendship, of course, and it didn’t seem like a healthy one anymore, but who was he now to say it, right?

He stood there for a moment, both in silence and avoiding each other’s gaze. 

Greg couldn’t help thinking about the piece of cake previously offered when the moment of realization hit him. “Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes wide open in horror.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock made a dodge to stand up but stopped when Greg spoke again.

“I forgot your birthday.” He covered his mouth and looked at Sherlock with a scowl, “I… I’ve never forgotten your birthday before.”

“What? Lestrade, I don’t care.”

“But _I_ do.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed, “I’ve been so busy with all this Smith thing going on at the Yard. That crazy man only stopped confessing the last murder yesterday!”

“ _Greg_ , it’s fine. I understand.”

“I’ve bought you a present for every year you were here and I didn’t remember it now,” he insisted.

He couldn’t believe it, after all these years - even those where he thought Sherlock to be dead, he remembered this date.

Sherlock raised to his feet gracefully and walked to him, speaking smoothly, “I don't mind, I’m okay.”

“Well, I am not,” he admitted then, raising his voice and looking straight at his eyes, letting all those feelings he’s been hiding to be finally seen. “I’m not okay with you breaking up with me, Sherlock. I’m not okay that you could have killed yourself because of your _stupid_ obsession with John Watson, I’m not okay that you let him beat the shit out of you and that I couldn’t do anything. And I am not okay that I forgot your bloody birthday!” His breathing was shaky when he finished, and he felt his chest tighten up as he holds his gaze with Sherlock’s. Lestrade swallowed, feeling his whole body itching.

Sherlock walked closer to him then and stood right in front of him, his yet brighten eyes looking at him softly, “I am sorry.”

He believed him.

Lestrade analyzed him a bit longer, he was mad but still, couldn’t stop himself before wrapping his arms around the man in front of him.

He didn’t say he missed him, didn’t say he wanted him back. Or even that he was glad he was alive. He didn’t say any of the things he’s had locked inside of him for this time, and only hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, smelling that familiar scent that he’s missed so much, and when he felt those long arms surrounded his waist in response, it meant the world to him. 

Too many words they wouldn’t say out loud now, too many feelings they wouldn’t talk about yet, but a tight hug was enough at least for a moment.

When Greg finally dared to pull away, he kissed his cheek in a gentle movement but it turned into something almost awkward when Sherlock moved his face to his side. They hold their gaze briefly before Sherlock pressed his lips against his in a chaste and hesitate kiss. Greg didn’t have the courage to press any further remembering the cut on Sherlock’s lower lip even when he seemed so eager to.

“I _am_ sorry,” Sherlock repeated quietly. Greg noticed the way his gaze travelled from his own eyes to his lips and had to suppress the smirk. “What do I have to do to have you back?”

Greg pushed away again, placing his hands on his shoulder to add some distance between them.

“You have always had me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock put on a wry face, “Don’t ruin it by getting corny, Lestrade, please.”

“Oh, I’m getting corny?” he jokingly asked but Sherlock rolled his eyes. Then Greg’s expression got a bit severe, “Although a “sorry” is not enough, Sherlock.”

This was his time to push away completely, frowning at him, “How do I show you then?”

“I’m not sure, but… but it doesn’t ease it all, _Sunshine_.” Sherlock’s face lit up when he heard that word and now Greg wouldn’t stop the smirk on his lips.

And Sherlock nodded once before pulling him by the collar of his coat to press their lips together again in an open kiss, sealing the moment, maybe a non-spoken promise but Greg wanted to make it enough for now.

“I still want that cake, though,” he said when he pushed slightly away.

Sherlock frowned, “You can have it all,” he said, “Mrs H probably knows I wouldn’t touch it anyways.”

Lestrade shook his head tenderly, but adding, “And I still owe you a gift.”

“Oh.” Sherlock arched an eyebrow, “Maybe you can give it to me _now_.”

“Jesus, Sherlock.” Greg laughed. “No, you’re too weak to anything physical.”

“We still can do a lot of things, Inspector,” he seductively said.

“ _No_. And I’m still getting you a present,” he declared smiling. “For now, we’ll wait until Molly gets here and then I’ll leave to sleep for the whole fucking year.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Boring.”

“That’s me.” Greg raised his eyebrows, still grinning. He kissed his cheek again, but this time grimacing, “You need to shave, by the way.”

With that, Sherlock pouted but didn't add anything as he wrapped his arms around Greg's body in a soft hug when he reciprocated it. It felt nice and warm.

They remained in that position for a bit longer, or at least until the thought of that piece of cake in the fridge took place all over inside Greg’s mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if someone else agrees that Sherlock's obsession over John isn't healthy in the series??? "Go to Hell, Sherlock." I hate that plot so much. And the fact that they didn't show 1, Greg during that time and 2, after John admitted he hit him bad he didn't react badly to it?? Our good Greg would have never allow that!
> 
> The title comes from Bowie.


End file.
